Summerset Abbey: Spring Awakening (Summerset Abbey Trilogy) (30 page)

Rowena glared. “You do realize that I have only had to make one emergency landing and have never broken wood, like most of your other pilots?”

“Well, today isn’t the day to start. And for the love of God, avoid all other aeroplanes, even if they look like ours. They’ve been bombing Dover like they want to pound it to dust, and I don’t want you caught up in that.” He paused and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “I don’t know what I’m doing by letting you fly into a war zone. You’d best go before I change my mind.”

Rowena gave him a fierce hug and climbed into the SPAD.
She gave Albert the go-ahead. Even though she had taken off from this airfield dozens of times, this time felt different, and she took it even more seriously than she usually did. She was on a mission of import and one that could be dangerous. This was not a flight to be enjoyed, but one that demanded she have her wits about her. She wished she could feel a greater sense of excitement. After all, she’d earned this. But somehow the thought of Jonathon, alone and perhaps wounded, leeched away her sense of triumph. She shoved the thought out of her mind and ignored the sick lurching of her stomach. Any distraction could get her killed.

Keeping one eye on her instruments and one on Albert in front of her, she flew to Dover without incident. Not until she was over the city and saw the rubble and pits from the recent bombings did the immediacy of the war and the danger of her current mission truly hit her. Hard.

She could be killed. There were men in the sky,
her sky
, who would do whatever they could to shoot her down. Her chest tightened. The thought was both surreal and sobering.

She climbed out of the aeroplane, her muscles stiff. The break in Dover would be short. Long enough for her to get a drink, use the WC, and fuel up. Albert waved to her and she joined him.

“I need to go talk to Major Rayne. He coordinates transportation and can tell us about weather, wind, and how hot the action is right now.”

She was about to ask what he meant when it dawned on her. Fighting. He meant fighting. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck.

Major Rayne was rugged, older, with a tidy mustache and a Yorkshire accent. She focused as he spoke of the weather and
coordinates, but shied away from talk of the war, dogfights, and the increased pressure on maritime travel.

“You may have difficulty getting back,” he warned. “The government has been sporadically shutting civilian travel down if they don’t think it’s safe, and quite frankly right now it’s not safe.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow. “You mean they will let us go over by aeroplane, but not return on one of their boats?”

Major Rayne’s mouth twisted wryly. “That’s about the extent of it.”

“But we’re doing military work,” she protested. The last thing she wanted was to get stuck in France.

“But you’re not official military. The ban doesn’t last for long. It’s open right now. We had several ferries come over this morning with both civilians and nurses. I just wanted to make you aware of the situation.”

After several more minutes, Albert and Rowena were ready for the flight. Rowena replaced her goggles and gave the men starting her propeller the thumbs-up. As the engine caught, it roared to life, and she nodded at Albert, in the aeroplane next to her.

Albert went first and she followed him. They both took off smoothly, circled once, then headed east out over the open water. The beauty of Dover’s green fields against the white of the cliffs and the blue of the ocean caused Rowena’s chest to ache. She could have stared at that scene forever, but turned her eyes to the instrument panel and then toward the back of Albert’s plane, flying steadily about one hundred feet ahead of her. The clouds bloomed fluffy and white just above them, but they remained on the fringe. They didn’t want Rowena to lose sight of Albert, but they wanted to be able to use the clouds as cover
should they spot an enemy plane. Of course, the enemy could use the clouds as cover while they attacked, as well.

As much as she tried to avoid the troubling news of the war, Rowena had learned much simply by listening to men discussing their aeroplanes, including the mounting machine guns on them. Mounting them to the front was dangerous as the bullets could, and would, damage the propeller. The race to create aeroplanes with firing power was heating up, and Mr. Dirkes was on the cutting edge of trying to figure out an efficient way to take down German reconnaissance aircraft. The Germans had already come up with such a design that seemed to work.

Rowena shook her head, trying not to think of the German advantage. She needed to focus on completing her mission because the British army desperately needed these aeroplanes. She wondered about the men who would fly them. No doubt they would be photographing Germans on the ground, trying to build a complete mosaic map of the German’s trench system.

No wonder the enemy wanted to shoot her down.

Rowena stretched her neck from side to side, tension stiffening her muscles. There was so much she didn’t want to think about right now. Couldn’t think about. Jonathon. Sebastian. The war. She took a deep breath and stared at the tail end of Albert’s Vickers until it mesmerized her.

She was concentrating so fully on the aeroplane ahead of her that she didn’t even see the other plane until it was almost wingtip to wingtip with her. Startled, she glanced upward knowing he must have come out of the clouds she was flying under.

She recognized the markings as German and, from the look of the nose, knew it must be an AGO C.II. For one startled moment, she stared into the eyes of a young man who could be no older than Victoria. He was so close she could see the shock
on his face, and for a split second they stared at one another before the other aeroplane pulled away and disappeared into the clouds.

For several heart-stopping seconds she waited for the sound of gunfire ripping through her aeroplane, but all she heard was the sound of her own aircraft and the beating of her heart in her ears. Her paralysis broke and she increased her speed until she came up next to Albert. She pointed above them. For a second he looked puzzled, but then he nodded in comprehension. Glancing around, he signaled for her to fly in a subordinate position. Nodding, she complied, flying slightly lower and to his left. This way, if an attack came from the sky, she would be slightly protected.

Though Rowena’s stomach clenched with fear, her hands were steady on the yoke and her focus sharpened. She put everything out of her mind and concentrated on her surroundings. By the time they made it to Calais, Rowena was both mentally and physically exhausted.

Rowena remembered Calais with fondness. The bustling port city was the first stop in most of the Buxton adventures on the Continent. She, Vic, and Prudence would beg Father to take them to their favorite ice-cream shop for French strawberry waffle cones. He always pretended they were in too much of a hurry, but they always ended up there, sitting outside on the sidewalk, the perfect beginning to whatever adventure they were off on.

The city looked nothing like that now, she thought, falling behind Albert to prepare for landing. A British naval base constructed mostly of tin, wood, and canvas buildings created an ugly counterpart to the otherwise charming city. Many of the Allied efforts were located here because of its strategic importance
and proximity to Flanders. She followed Albert’s lead and landed smoothly. The moment she braked, she was surrounded by English soldiers eager to get the aeroplane under cover.

Some of the soldiers gave her split skirt strange looks until she pulled off her goggles and helmet and pulled her hair out of the back of her jacket. She’d found it made for less confusion if the men knew right away that she was a woman. Several of them looked shocked, but she supposed they were too polite to say anything. Even dressed in her flying clothes, she looked exactly like what she was: a lady. It was locked into the fineness of her features and the soft fairness of her skin.

Albert hurried back to her. “What did you see?”

“A German aeroplane. I think he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.”

One of the men glanced at her with new respect. “You out-flew a German pilot and lived to tell the tale? Not many can say that.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think he even tried to follow.”

The man shrugged. “At any rate, you’d best go tell the captain. Thanks for the aeroplanes.” He saluted them and went back to his work.

Their debriefing didn’t last long because there wasn’t much to tell. By the time they were done, Rowena was starving and the captain walked them over to the mess hall.

“We will try to get you on a transport ship taking wounded soldiers back to England, but I’m not sure if there will be room. We’ll have someone drive you to the hotel we use for visiting dignitaries after we eat. You can check back with us in the morning and I will have a better sense of availability.”

Rowena nodded. They were just entering the tent when a private stopped them.

“Captain, I was told to deliver this to you immediately.” He handed the captain a note, his eyes sliding toward Rowena as he did so.

The captain raised his eyebrows as he read the outside of the envelope. “This says it’s for Rowena Buxton.” He turned to the private. “Did this come by cable?”

The private nodded, and the captain handed the slip of paper to Rowena.

She frowned and her heart rate kicked up a notch. Who could have sent it? Only Mr. Dirkes knew where she was. . . . Her heart slammed into her ribs once again.

Jonathon.

She ripped the envelope open with trembling fingers.

Jonathon found near Flanders. Badly wounded. At the Red Cross hospital at Le Touquet. Possible to check on him? D.D.

Rowena stared at the words trying to make sense of what she was reading. The men were still standing in front of the door. The captain must have read the expression on her face because he asked, “Bad news?”

“Yes, someone, a . . . friend, is badly hurt.” She looked at Albert. “They found Jonathon. Mr. Dirkes wants us to check on him.”

“Where is he?”

“A base hospital in Le Touquet. Is there any way we can get there? He’s a fellow pilot.”

The captain hesitated. “It’s closer to the front. You know that, right?”

She nodded.

“All right then. I will lend you my motorcar and driver. But please be back by the morning. I would like to have you both on the ship back home. I don’t like being responsible for civilians.”

It took about ten minutes for the arrangements to be made and included a hastily packed dinner for the road.

“That’s British military efficiency,” Albert said, taking a bite of a meat sandwich. “You should eat something.”

Rowena took a sandwich automatically, but knew she wouldn’t be able to force it into her mouth. Her temples throbbed and her eyes burned with the effort to keep from crying. Even though she was praying that she was wrong, her instincts told her that his life was already slipping from him. She must get to him. She couldn’t let him die all alone in a foreign country.

She leaned her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. Purposefully, she brought up every detail of their time together. Every moment she could possibly remember. From the night she held him in her arms after he had crashed, to visiting him in the hospital soon after. She remembered the first time he’d taken her up in an aeroplane, and the moment when he’d kissed her on the sidewalk in the village, inadvertently setting off the events that would lead to her engagement to Sebastian. She remembered the way he laughed, the blue of his eyes, and the way the sun glinted off the red-gold of his hair.

She remembered those hushed, halcyon hours spent in that hotel room as he made love to her and how she thought she would die of happiness.

She remembered his walking away from her and the last time
they had met, when she’d walked away from him. She prayed that she would arrive in time. How tragic it would be if the last words they exchanged were angry.

When they arrived at the hospital, Albert let her go in first. She was fairly sure that he didn’t know about her relationship with Jonathon, but Mr. Dirkes had sent the note to her.

She followed an orderly back to a long room with iron beds set in straight rows every four feet. It was dark by then and the room was lit with only a few small gaslights set on low.

A nurse, dressed as primly as a nun in a habit, came to her and asked whom she was there to see. She didn’t ask why Rowena had been afforded the privilege of a late-night visit. Many of the men who were in that room wouldn’t survive the trip back to England. If someone showed up to say their good-byes, it was allowed.

“How is he?”

The nurse pressed her lips together. “Are you his sweetheart?” she asked in a lilting Irish accent.

Rowena was about to shake her head but changed her mind. “Yes.” What other sweetheart did he have?

The nurse briefly touched Rowena’s shoulder. “You’d best say your good-byes. He has internal injuries and took a blow to the head that would have already killed most men. I don’t know how he managed to burn his aeroplane and walk to safety.”

Because he is one of the most determined men who ever lived
, Rowena thought as the nurse took her to Jonathon’s bedside and brought her a chair. His head had been wrapped in a white bandage, but she could see blood leaking through. His hand lay on the outside of the coverlet, and Rowena picked it up and held it between hers. “Jonathon,” she whispered. “I’m here with you now.”

She waited but Jonathon didn’t respond.
Oh, please, Lord, let him respond. Please let him know I am here
. She sat quietly for a moment, then continued talking as if he could hear her. “I flew over the Channel today. I flew in a Vickers even more advanced than my own. Mr. Dirkes must really believe in my skills if he would have me bring one of those aeroplanes over. Wait until you fly it. It’s light as a bird but responds beautifully. Dirkes sends his love, as does your mother.” They hadn’t of course, but she knew that they did. That even now their love was surrounding them both and would buoy Jonathon on his journey. His hand still lay limp and motionless in hers. Her breath caught and she continued her endless talking, talking, talking.